Working Class Hero
by jenajasper
Summary: Every day they do their job, even if no one notices...just a note :this was fun. Thanks for hanging in there and if you saw yourself or someone you know, it was intentional. "Raise a glass to the hard working people. Raise a glass to the salt of the earth." ! Thanks again
1. Chapter 1

Sam picked up the newspaper from the seat next to him and noticed a small article entitled " Where Are Our Children?"

This caught his eye. It might be something. He kept reading and after the initial shock value opening, he got to the heart of it.

"On Tuesday afternoon, four members of the team never made it home after practice. The boys, all fifth graders at Grenn Public School, left Memorial Park together. Witnesses say they walked the perimeter of trees that edge the baseball field, then, took a well traveled footpath towards Grenn Street.

Within hours, local police , as well as civilian volunteers, searched both the park and the surrounding wooded area. No indication of foul play or disturbance was discovered. An alert was broadcast on all local media.

As of this printing, no new information has developed regarding the boys or their whereabouts."

He had read enough and passed the paper to his brother. After reading the same few paragraphs, Dean asked;

"What's today?"

"It's Thursday. This happened two days ago."

"And how far are we?"

"Couple hours, three"

With no additional conversation needed, the two men stood and grabbed their jackets. Sam tossed a bill on the table and Dean took one more gulp of his coffee.

The following Monday morning, in that same diner, a man picked up the newspaper from the seat next to him. He never noticed the small article.

"Grenn Street Boys Found Alive"


	2. Chapter 2

"Sorry I had to hang up before but, somethin' needed my full attention. Oh yes, they come downstairs in suits this mornin'. And do they clean up nice! They looked good enough to eat and if I had to choose between 'em … what? Well, I know that, ok? But my eyes still work and so does my imagination.

I mean, the big one, well the bigger one, he's got the sweetest personality and the friendliest smile and the other, oh my! But regular folks like us don't see men that good lookin' just walking around. And his hands, they're workin' man's hands, you know? Strong and rough.

What? No, that's not why I called I'm just giving you some vicariousity. Yes it is, look it up. Anyway, they were on their way to the college. They told me, that's how I know. I mean, I don't like to get into other people's business, you know that. They were goin' to see some professor at the college. I think they come from some government wildlife agency.

Honey, why else would they come? To investigate! They sure didn't come here to go fishin'. We ain't got no fish! Lake water ain't supposed to get that hot. And it's not like they can do anythin' about it. Don't nobody know how it happened. I just know that business is terrible. They're my first guests in almost a week and it's our busy time. . Now come on, how busy you been?

Listen, you know what else I found out about them? The older one is very protective. Now, I don't gossip, but at first I thought, you know since they were both so pretty...but, turns out, their brothers. Brothers that work together, isn't that sweet? I wonder, do they do everythin' together?

Really? Like you wasn't just thinkin' the same thing. Now, stop interruptin' me….."

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"Well, there you are. I been callin' and callin'. I know, I'm busy too. What's that sayin'...a one armed paper hanger, that's it. Well, I can't explain it. It's like somebody gave the lake a couple tylenol and threw the fish back in. You and me both. I am beat. I got most every room booked and I had to get that girl back to help me. I can't think what's goin' on by you.

But, you know what? My two beautiful boys checked out this mornin' I tried to get 'em to stay now that everything's back to normal. And they worked so hard. They talked to just everybody and asked so many questions! And I sure wouldn't mind lookin' at 'em for another day or so.

But. let me ask you, the night they went by your place, was that the first time you seen 'em? Was I right? Like movie stars, I told you and big! You know they didn't get back til way late. Research? Is that what they said? Well, they didn't look like they used no boat, to me. I'm still cleaning up mud and God only knows what else. And you should've seen the tub! No, they wasn't in it. We can only dream, honey.

Maybe it was some kinda freak of nature thing, like global warmin' or somethin'. That's not stupid. What do you think it was? What did he say? The supernatural, like Bigfoot or aliens? You know, he's my brother and I love him and everything but, he says some of the dumbest things. Too much tv, I think.

Well anyway, everything seems ok now. And I did try to get those boys to stay. It seemed such a waste. I mean, they came here at the worst time and then left when the mess was all fixed…..Oh, speakin' of a big ol mess, have you seen….."


	3. Chapter 3

Just like every other morning, on his way to work, he made the left off highway 13 and into Mike's Gas and Auto Repair. He passed the gas pumps and drove around to the side of the garage to his usual parking spot. He had company this morning. He exited his car and walked around the front to take a look at his neighbor. He whistled his appreciation as he admired the 1967 black Chevy Impala.

Mike heard the bell and looked up as the door opened to his small office. He walked over to offer his guest a cup of coffee as he greeted him. "Mornin' Joe. Cup o' joe?"

"Mornin' Mike. Do you think we could skip that joke just once?" He feigned annoyance as he took the hot coffee offered by his friend but, this was just a game they played. "Whose car is that outside?"

"The Impala? A couple o' young guys, it belonged to their dad, they said. They take good care of it, too."

"Yea, it's a beauty. Looks like she had a little accident, though. You fixing her up?"

"Nope, the older one's a pretty good mechanic. All he's got left to fix is a broken headlight and a mirror. And you should have seen it when he first brought her in. His brother told me he rebuilt it from the frame up a few years ago. He needed a place to work and I couldn't see him leaving it on the street in that condition."

"Did he tell you how it happened?"

"Hit some kind o' animal out on 13 the other night, at least he thinks so. They didn't see it. They're lucky."

"Well, they're definitely not from around here. We all have enough sense not to be out on that road at night."

Over the last few weeks, a couple of the local farmers had reported finding abandoned cars on their properties. There had also been cars found along the side of the road. There was never any sign of the passengers.

Mike asked Joe if he would swing by for lunch since he didn't have his truck. Joe made a joke about a mechanic who couldn't keep his own vehicle running.

"It's running fine, thanks. I lent it to the guy to pick up some parts. He should be back this afternoon, sometime."

"Mike! You gave your truck to a stranger? Are you nuts!"

"You kidding , Joe? I got the best of the bargain; look at the collateral."

The two friends shook hands as they finalized lunch details. As Joe backed out of his parking spot, he took one more look at the Impala before turning onto the highway.

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The next morning, Joe pulled into the garage and parked in his usual spot. He saw that his neighbor was gone. He walked into the office and Joe and Mike had their usual exchange over a cup of coffee.

Joe asked, "Hey, where's that beautiful Impala?"

"Oh, the guy finished work on it late yesterday. Did a good job, too. It looked good as new. They left early this morning."

"I wish I could've seen it. She sure was a beauty."

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They did have news to discuss. There had been a fire in an old barn off highway 13 a few miles from town. The police had discovered several bodies worth of charred remains, all beheaded. The consensus was that this was some kind of ritual killing and that the culprits had moved on.


	4. Chapter 4

They knew they would have to work fast. There was a funeral scheduled in the morning. It would be the last due to this ghost, thanks to them. as long as they got these bones salted and burned.

They had managed to trap the spirit in its own hiding spot, giving them as much of an obstructed path as possible. But the binding ritual wouldn't hold it for long and the sun wasn't more than an hour away.

"Dean, why do we always find the graves dead center of the cemetery?"

"Dead center, Sam? Seriously? Less jokes, more digging, ok?"

Sam hadn't realized what he said but, he couldn't let it go.

"What, clever retorts your domain, Dean?"

It was either way too early or way too late for this conversation. Dean had no response for Sam and his 'clever retorts'. He just grumbled and kept on digging.

They finally struck the surface of the rotted coffin. As their shovel and pick-axe cracked the splintering wood, the stench overwhelmed them. Regardless of how many times they did this, and how accustomed they may have been to it, the dusty, smoky fumes still caught in their throats and permeated the moist linings of their nostrils.

Dean dug in his pockets for a lighter as Sam sprinkled the salt and poured the lighter fluid over the desecration. With a 'whoosh', the ditch was aflame.

Patting his brother on the back, Dean said, as Sam expected, "Another one bites the dust." And as Dean expected, Sam groaned a sigh as he rolled his eyes and slowly shook his head.

The brothers gathered their tools and other equipment, careful not to leave behind any record of themselves. They walked towards the Impala waiting patiently at the gate.

Sam and Dean walked into the last of the dark night as the sky behind them began to turn pink and orange from the first hint of the sun.

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The funeral was scheduled to start and he still had plenty to get done. He expected the first of the mourners within the hour. Some folks were unable to deal with the church service; they would pay their respects at the cemetery.

As he walked towards the grave site, he saw his two workers arranging chairs under the tent. They had dug a nice deep hole, pretty quick, yesterday. And why not? In this town there had been plenty of practice in the last couple of weeks.

He remarked on the beautiful day and the perfect blue sky. Then a dusty patch caught his eye far to his left. He checked his watch and determined he could leave the boys on their own a few minutes longer and investigate. He wanted nothing to mar the ceremony. The day would be a horrible enough memory without this ugliness.

As he moved towards the interruption of his beautiful blue sky, he could smell the acrid scent of lighter fluid. Within a few feet of the grave, he could hear the crackle of the dying flame and see the golden shimmer of flying embers.

He called his workers over and had them bring their shovels. Under his breath, he muttered, "Ain't there no respect for the dead?'


	5. Chapter 5

The listing had been active for months and that was unusual for around here. It was a big lot, a nice sized house, good schools, priced to move; it was perfect.

There was a buyer and it looked promising but, that was almost a week ago. The walk-through was great; they seemed very motivated. They even went back, on their own, one evening. Then they left the keys in the drop box and never called back.

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Sam never expected to hear from his former roommate. They hadn't kept in touch and weren't that close. But, one drink too many, on a boys' night out, had loosened Sam's tongue considerably. He hadn't really given away the 'big secret' but, he did spill his brain about ghosts, goblins and ghouls. Some kind of expert, his friend had joked.

So, maybe, it shouldn't have been too much of a surprise when Sam got the call that the house his friend wanted, for his family, felt 'creepy'.

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Upon entering the house, Dean looked around, whistled then said, "I gotta ask you, Sammy, is this what a Stanford education gets you?"

Sam's answer to his brother's question was just a roll of the eyes; he had long since gotten over any regrets he had for leaving school.

Dean immediately followed up his comment with a couple of light taps to his brother's cheek and smiled as he said, "Let's do this."

The EMF went berserk, every direction, every room. So, the brothers claimed one room to keep themselves out of harm's way while they worked.

Sam started his research, while Dean checked the place out, dodging flying objects along the way. They realized that the activity took place during the overnight and early morning. It was very calm and quiet all day.

Sam found out that the house had once been rented to a local factory worker and his family. He was one of those jerks who followed orders at work then came home and terrorized everyone. Sam uncovered several police reports, mostly calls from neighbors, complaining about the noise.

Whatever sent him over the edge, they didn't know but, one day he came home and killed them all, including himself. The end result was five violent deaths and lots of bad energy.

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Once they had the facts, they knew what to do. They would get rid of 'dad' and everything should go away. They opened the grave and Dean went back to the house. He waited for 'dad' to come home, then salted all the windows and doors to keep everybody in. At this point, he called Sam to light the match.

By the time Sam returned to the house, the EMF was silent. They stayed until the end of 'dad's' next shift, before closing up shop.

Sam called his friend.

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The realtor was so pleased to hear back from the buyers. The deal was on. She didn't know what changed their minds and didn't really care but, she had promised to have the place ready. So, where did she put that cleaning service number?

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Her voicemail had the strangest message. How could the cleaner charge her extra for salt removal? How much salt could there be?


	6. Chapter 6

Why did they always find these things in the middle of nowhere? At least, now, it wouldn't hurt anyone else. But, they needed a doctor, in a hurry.

Dean drove with his left arm pressed to his side. He was trying to control both the bleeding and the pain. He stole a quick look at his brother. Sam was holding his right arm against his body. He kept insisting it was minor but, from the uncontrollable rocking and the unintentional moans, Dean could sense how seriously Sam was hurt.

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It was a small rural medical emergency office and, at this time of night, there was only one doctor and a very tired nurse already into a double shift. They never were very busy. All the real emergencies went the extra four miles to the medical center. The nurse thought to herself, 'just another night of the usual'.

She watched the two men literally drag themselves into the triage area. The bloody one was screaming for help for the other one. Aside from the obvious broken arm and assorted cuts and bruises, she couldn't imagine what was more urgent than all that blood.

She rushed toward them, calling out for the doctor. As she approached them, the doctor appeared from around the corner.

"Don't touch me," Dean said. "I'll stand here and bleed to death, if I have to. You take care of my brother."

Dean knew he would probably pass out before he could make good on his threat but, he was determined to hold on until he was sure Sam was okay.

Sam could barely speak. He'd never seen his own bone sticking out of his skin. He couldn't even think of moving his arm. All he could really do was worry about Dean. There was so much blood. He sat with his back against the chair. "No one touches me until you fix Dean."

The doctor remained calm and quickly assessed the situation. He could plainly see which one needed the most immediate attention; he could also see that it wouldn't be easy. He told the nurse to grab a wheelchair while he slowly reached out to Dean.

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Having stitched up the one and set the bone on the other, they let Sam and Dean sleep off their medication. When they awoke, the brothers told a convincing story of being jumped outside a bar. And no, they couldn't identify anybody and no, they didn't want the police. Now, since they were both in good enough working order, the doctor and nurse were more than happy and tired enough to let it go. So, the Winchesters were sent on their way with instruction to go to the medical center for follow up.

Within the hour, the nurse was finally able to go home. Before she left, her relief casually asked her if anything exciting had happened.

"Well, we did have a couple of guys who were in some kind of a fight. You should have seen them"

It didn't sound like much, just the usual. So, she gave the usual answer."Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, one bleeding all over the place and the other all broken up and each one more worried about the other." She paused before speaking again. "I wish someone loved me like that."


	7. Chapter 7

She'd been working in this place for a long time and thought she'd seen it all. The hookers, the drunks, the cheaters and one-night stands, and then these two.

They stayed a couple of nights and kept odd hours. And the manager gave strict, almost threatening, instructions to stay out of their room. She didn't care what they did; all she wanted was to do her job and clean.

Even when they were in, they refused. They always took the extra towels, though. So, at least they showered; and they looked clean, when they went out.

She caught them coming in that time she worked the overnight and it startled her. And that took some doing. At first, she figured maybe some kind of underground fight club. Well, they definitely fought something.

But maybe it was more. She thought she saw the glint of a knife and smelled gunpowder. Experience can give you a keen eye for that sort of thing. They didn't look like bad guys but, they did look like they could be dangerous. And nobody should want to be on the receiving end of that.

They weren't the first guests not to want maid service. However, those folks were usually very strange. These two were polite and sociable. They said 'good morning' and 'thank you ma'am'. Not the usual privacy paranoids. Well, they had their reasons and all she really cared about was what they left behind.

Well, finally she could get into the room; the brothers had checked out. She didn't have any idea what they were in town for but, she had a feeling that something bad left with them or because of them.

She entered the room and stopped in her tracks. Two men for three days; she couldn't believe what she saw.

The beds were stripped, the towels were collected and the microwave was clean. Even the trash was combined in one bag with the beer bottles separated for recycling. She had never seen a room left in this condition, not in this place.

She grabbed her supplies and headed for the bathroom where she saw the folded paper stuck in the mirror. She unfolded it to expose a twenty dollar bill and the word 'thanks'. She laughed to herself and thought that she should be thanking them. This would be her easiest job all day.

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While Sam checked the bathroom and left the tip (they appreciated a clean room coming in and being left alone), Dean scanned the rest of the place, looking for any tell-tale reminders of themselves or their work.

Satisfied, he grabbed his bag, followed Sam out and shut the door.


	8. Chapter 8

She pulled into her usual spot, the first one to the right of the entrance. At this time of day, the lot is almost empty. She can see that the hardware guys are already here and, of course, that woman who owns the flower shop. Doesn't she ever go home?

She walks toward the front door jingling the keys. She sees the small bundle in front of the laundromat. "Good morning, Mr. Wilson."

Every Tuesday, on his way to work, Mr. Wilson drops off his linens. He always picks them up on his way home. He says it's the smell of lavender; she thinks he just hates folding sheets. Most folks do; no matter, he always has a story to tell and usually brings her something from the bakery.

He walked in right behind her. So soon after, that his 'good morning', although softly spoken, startled her. She spun around to face him and it was a long way up.

He had a friendly smile and the cutest dimples. Obviously, her distress was visible because he apologized for the scare. She felt the blush and waved him away but, she was smiling now.

He asked about the length of the wash cycle; she thought that an odd question. And when she asked him what kind of wash he had, he shrugged and with an expression that made him look five years old, he answered, "dirty?"

She laughed and looked for herself. She pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Both were so grimy, she almost asked if he was a coal miner. Then she saw the blood. She wouldn't ask any more questions.

She set the machine, gave him her special detergent concoction and helped him load the laundry. He thanked her and as he left, asked her how she liked her coffee.

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About twenty minutes later, she walked to the front of the store to get a cart and saw the car. Her older brother once had a car like that. He loved it. She remembered he treated it better than most of his girlfriends. She missed him. Then, she saw the driver in his leather jacket.

"It's not fair." She said this out loud. We're not supposed to get old and sick. He was supposed to always look like that. She snapped out of it when she realized the young man was walking towards the door. He was carrying a tray with three cups of coffee.

She opened the door for him and he smiled. How could that be; two in one day? She asked if he needed help and he answered , "My brother said you take it light and sweet." Then he smiled, again.

She had an answer on the tip of her tongue but, he was a stranger and she was old enough to be his mother. So, she just smiled at the handsome young man and thanked him. As she took the cup, she noticed the bruised and scraped knuckles and the hint of a bandage on his arm. So, that was his brother doing the laundry.

She didn't usually have company this early and it was a nice change. His name was Dean and his brother, Sam, came back from his run just in time to help fold.


	9. Chapter 9

He saw them walk in. At first glance, 'feds' he thought. He was turning away when he realized that if this was official business, they would need to speak to him. He went back to his work but, watched them out of the corner of his eye.

'Not feds', he thought. He saw the discomfort of the one fiddling with his tie. And he noticed the haircut on the other. He released the spigot on the local draft and turned to serve his customer.

He found that good bartenders developed extraordinary peripheral vision. He saw the two suits approach and take seats at the bar. He spoke as he turned and asked, "What can I get you guys?"

"Two beers, please."

"Local draft okay?" He reached for the mugs, which he kept cold. He was a salesman, after all.

"Awesome. Oh, and a shot a Jack."

These two spend a lot of time together; they speak for each other. Awesome, he thought, definitely not on the job. And a drinker; that was no afterthought. No judgement, just observation.

He placed the shot glass and napkins on the bar.

"...not telling us everything…."

It was an occupational hazard, overhearing bits of conversation. He was used to that and could ignore it, unless it was interesting. He walked away and returned with the beers. The shot glass was empty and the drinker raised it to signal for another.

"...burn the bones….' He heard him say.

When he returned with the bottle of Jack, he couldn't help but listen.

"What do you think? Two, three hundred years?'

He watched the other one shrug as he finished his beer. Replacing the glass on the bar, he waved his hand over both and mouthed the word, 'thanks'.

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The Winchesters spent enough time in bars to know that bartenders had selective hearing. They could hear everything directed at them and ignore anything else. So, they kept talking.

"Well, what do you think, Sam?"

The bartender had returned, picking up the empties after placing down the fresh beers.

"Dean, I don't know how long it takes to turn demon.'

The bartender concluded that these two must have started drinking elsewhere. He would no longer listen to their conversation.


	10. Chapter 10

She read all the books, several times. She loved those boys. They were so brave, and handsome, and devoted. So, what if they weren't real?

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She hung up the phone and immediately rearranged the books, all of them. from 'The Woman In White' to 'No Rest For The Wicked'. Her hand lingered as she thought of the end of that story. And she sighed.

But, things were looking up. Someone wanted to talk to her about the books. How awesome, if they could finally get the attention they deserved. And then tell the rest of this story.

She knew he was still writing; he told her so. It was like an obsession for him. No, the word he used was 'calling' . He has such a sense of responsibility and obligation to those boys, to tell that story. She felt responsible and obligated to him. And if she could convince these reporters…..

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The interview had gone well, she felt. Although, she had her doubts, at first. They seemed a little resistant when she talked about how they cry. They didn't look the way she expected them to, either. Big and broad and plaid, jeans and boots, a little rough around the edges for reporters, she thought. She wondered, how underground was this publication they wrote for? But, she made it clear; she didn't want any 'smart ass article' making fun of the boys.

With any luck, she felt it a legitimate possibility that they could start publishing again, if Chuck cooperated. That's why she gave them his real name and address. It wasn't an easy decision but they were evidently fans.

They knew the answers to all her questions. The birthdays, Sam's LSAT score, even Dean's favorite song. He knew it was a tie and he said it like he believed it. They even had the tattoo, and on their chests like Sam and Dean.

And that one guy seemed truly offended when she made that comment about real men. Those two guys were real men. What if Sam and Dean were real men? What if those two were really Sam and Dean?

She laughed to herself. Maybe, even at herself.

Why is that such a crazy idea? If this works out, she was going to pitch this to him. She was his publisher; he would listen to her.

And anyhow, we can make up whatever we want.

That's why they call it fiction.


End file.
